Missing Pieces: Safe Haven
by Potrix
Summary: Gregory Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes, happily married and doing very well in their respective careers. But there's still something missing, and they wouldn't be Greg and Mycroft if they went about it like everybody else. Crimes, politics, a lot of drama and finally the fulfilment of their biggest wish; children. - A cute little Mystrade story with a very happy ending!
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Hello everyone and welcome to the first instalment of my 'Missing Pieces' series. Yes, I have two other on-going Sherlock stories. Yes, I have just started another one. No, I don't think that's a good idea either. Ah, well.

Anyway, please enjoy and tell me what you think about it (positive or negative). It's a tiny little chapter, I'm aware of that, but it's only the prologue. The first 'real' chapter will be up by the end of the week, I promise. This is really just to reel you guys in.

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Prologue**

Gregory Lestrade had always adored children. From age four, if asked what his three biggest wishes were, Greg would always answer with the same things; become a police officer, find a soul mate and have at least half a football team of wild, loud offspring.

Now, at age 46, he was pretty close to having his dreams become reality. He was a Detective Inspector with Scotland Yard - and a damn fine one, thank you very much! - working crazy hours and even crazier cases and loving every second of it. He had found, with a bit of luck and the 'help' of a certain irritating genius, someone he loved deeply and intended to spend the rest of his life with.

Yes, all in all, Gregory Lestrade was doing well. But, in the wee hours of the morning, slumped over mountains of paperwork, slurping down another of those dreadful cups of piss the cafeteria staff called coffee, he sometimes wondered what could have been.

If, for example, his first marriage had worked out, his husband hadn't cheated on him (repeatedly) and they had found a suitable surrogate. His oldest could be almost fourteen by now, starting secondary school, ignoring him and being snarky and moody and an overall teenage pain in the ass, yet still be loved and cherished to bits.

And every time his dreaming brought him to the same conclusion; he was missing something.

* * *

Mycroft Holmes had never paid much thought to the idea of having children. From the day his brother had been born over 35 years ago, he had made it his mission to ease the boy's way through life and the unavoidable taunts, to stand by his side and offer a supporting hand whenever needed.

Sherlock being Sherlock, that hadn't worked out as expected. Which, given Sherlock being Sherlock, should have been expected.

But Mycroft was not unhappy, far from it. He had worked himself into a high political position, becoming an indispensable part of the British government. What he did was hard, time-consuming, tiresome and, more often than not, incredibly dangerous. He wouldn't trade it for the world.

And somehow, despite his beliefs to be incapable of such sentiment, he had stumbled head first into a passionate and loving relationship with a certain handsome Detective Inspector.

At age 42, Mycroft was happily married, basically running the country (and a few others, though there was no need to mention _that_ to anyone) and couldn't think of anything else he wished for. If he ignored that nagging voice in the back of his head, telling him that there was something missing to complete his little family, that is.

* * *

Neither man had the slightest idea that their lives were about to be turned completely upside down.


	2. A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

**A/N:** Here it is, the first real chapter. Please enjoy and tell me what you think!

Also, I have decided to use songs for the chapter titles, since I mentioned some of my favourite bands in this chapter. Just some random information. I'll shut up now.

* * *

**Chapter Summary:** Greg makes a new and unexpected acquaintance.

* * *

**Warnings:** swearing, some implications of physical abuse

* * *

**Chapter 2 - A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes  
**(by Cinderella)**  
**

Greg flopped down on the sofa with an exhausted groan, trying to balance the bottle of beer in his hand and cursing when some of it spilled on the floor. With a shrug, he rubbed one socked feet over the wet spot. Mycroft would probably scowl at him and scold his lack of 'cleaning etiquette'. Grinning at the notion, the grey-haired man flicked on the telly and leaned back, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Yes, his husband would _definitely_ not like that.

Taking a sip of his drink, he went through the mental list he had drawn up for his weekend off;

- Send Sherlock away on a case in Cardiff for the weekend. _Check._

- Buy a case of the good, expensive beer. _Check._

- Pick up the new Bond film. _Check._

- Crisps directly out of the bag just to drive Mycroft insane when he'd eventually see it on the security footage. _Check._

- Order a ridiculous amount of Massaman Curry from his favourite Thai restaurant. _Check._

- Ogle at a naked Daniel Craig. _Mmmh._

Sometimes, Greg decided, life was amazing! He didn't even manage to get through the opening credits before someone rang the doorbell.

"God-fucking-damn-it!" the DI muttered, paused the film and went over to the door, peeking through the spy hole.

Two bushy eyebrows went up in surprise; standing in the stairway of one of the most prestigious housing complexes in London were two teenagers who definitely did _not_ belong there. A boy and a girl, siblings from the looks of it, shifting nervously, fidgeting. Both of them had jet black hair, the boy's relatively short and messy, while the girl wore hers long, the left side completely shaved off. They shared an eye colour - a dark, deep, warm green - and most of their other characteristics. Both were relatively tall with thin faces, yet still carrying around some puppy fat here and there, had some freckles around their eyes and noses and lithe, agile bodies.

What made them stand out, however, was their choice of clothing. The girl was wearing a long, faded 'Skid Row' shirt, reaching all the way down to her knees, the rest of her legs covered in torn, black nylons. The outfit was completed with an old jeans jacket cluttered with patches. Her brother had on a pair of black skinny jeans combined with a 'Mötley Crüe' shirt and a thin leather jacket. All in all, they looked like they'd just stumbled out of the 80s.

_'Good taste.'_, Greg grinned to himself, sending a quick glance down over his own 'Cinderella' shirt and pyjama bottoms.

"Let's just leave it and go!" the girl whined, tugging at the boy's elbow.

The other teen rolled his eyes, shoving her away. "The lights are on, someone's home."

"So?" the girl shrugged and pulled a face. "It's hardly my fault the rest of the population is lacking in the intelligence department. _Let's gooo!_"

"You're a terrible person." her brother groaned and reached out, this time to knock at the dark wood of the door.

"No, I am the kind of person who possesses a certain self-preservation instinct and doesn't fancy getting thrown into another home because her stupid git of a twin brother had to play good little boy and walk directly into a bloody police officer's home, offering us up on a goddamn' plate!"

"Don't be dramatic." the boy chuckled, throwing an arm around his twin, pulling her close to press a kiss against the squirming girl's temple. "We're being nice, nothing wrong with that. And not every copper in London is on a personal mission to make your life miserable, Emmy."

"You sure about that?" the girl muttered, eyes hard and stubborn.

"Shut up." the boy grinned and stepped forward to ring the bell again, revealing the DI's brown leather briefcase sitting on the floor between the twins' feet.

Confused, Greg quickly unlocked the door and threw it open, startling both teens and causing them to jump back with surprised squeaks.

The girl recovered first. "You, erm, forgot this on the tube."

"We called after you, but you didn't hear." the boy added, smiling shyly and carefully picking up the object, holding it out to the DI.

Greg stared at them dumbly, mouth hanging open, and tried to think back an hour. He'd left the tube, walked up the street, met their downstairs neighbour in the lift, entered the flat and gone directly to the bathroom _without_ his case. Huh.

"So, yeah, anyway, here you go." the boy continued when Greg failed to say anything, shoving the briefcase at him again.

This time, Greg took it and shook himself, smiling at the two of them. "Thanks, you're life savers." he grinned sheepishly, rifling through the files to see if any were missing.

"We didn't look at them." the girl informed the DI, watching him warily.

"Well, we did look throughthem to find the ad-" the boy began, earning himself a punch in the arm from his sister.

"We did, but we didn't _read_ them." the girl corrected, throwing her brother a glare. The boy shrugged, mouthing _'What?'_ while the girl hissed "Idiot!" and rubbed a hand over her face.

Greg's eyebrows drew together in confusion for a moment before his eyes widened in realisation. _Oh._

Their clothing was not only well-worn, it was _old_. They weren't thin or lithe, they were _underweight_. The girl wasn't impatient, she was _scared_ of him and his occupation.

The Detective Inspector in Greg took over automatically, searching the two teens for any other evidence to confirm his suspicions. Neither of them was dirty per se, but they both seemed a bit shabby and unkempt. They boy, under the fringe falling over his face, had a fading black eye and the girl sported several bruises on her neck and what was visible of her arms, ranging from dark purple to yellow. Their clothing was nowhere near warm enough for mid-November, both their fingernails and lips starting to turn blue. Add to that the snippets of conversation Greg had heard and it wasn't especially hard to draw a conclusion;

Homeless? Possibly. Poor? Most definitely. Severely neglected? Without doubt.

Greg cleared his throat. "Thank you, really.", he said again, changing his expression to open and warm. "Most people would have searched it for money and then tossed it away."

"It seemed important." the boy shrugged, cheeks blushing at the praise. The girl narrowed her eyes at the man, watching him suspiciously.

The awkward silence descended over the trio again and Greg, before he really paid it any thought, asked; "Would you like to come in? Maybe have a drink?"

"That's not necessary, sir." the girl replied immediately, elbowing her brother who'd looked intrigued, but took the hint and nodded along.

"Nonsense, I insist!" Greg smiled and stepped back, holding the door open for the pair of them.

There seemed to be some kind of silent conversation going on between the siblings before they turned to him, hesitation written all over their faces, and shuffled into the flat.

"Please take off yo-" the DI began after he'd closed the door and turned back to the pair, only to find them both already loosening the strings of their combat boots. Manners. That was unexpected. "Right. Coke or water?"

"Coke." the two teens answered in unison.

Greg suppressed a grin, nodded and went through to the kitchen, hearing a half-whispered; "This is a spectacularly bad idea!"

"He seems nice enou-"

"Police officer!" the girl hissed. "He is a fucking police officer! We are standing in a police officer's living room, Elijah! I don't know about you, but personally, I could go without another round of social service's 'find a suitable home for the two messed-up teens no one wants'!"

The boy huffed. "He isn't going to take us down to the station just because we brought back his bloody briefcase!"

"It's his damn job!" the girl snapped, stalking past her brother and freezing mid-step when she spotted Greg watching them from the open kitchen.

The DI merely raised an eyebrow, holding out two glasses.

"Thanks." the girl mumbled, accepting the drink and sniffing it before taking a tentative sip. Her brother seemed less concerned and downed his coke in one go, grinning happily.

"You guys like Italian food?" Greg asked and winced when the girl's gaze turned slightly panicky and automatically snapped to the door.

"We really should be going, sir." the boy said quickly and put his glass down on the bar, grabbing for his sister's hand, tugging her towards the exit.

"Stop."

The teens froze at the man's commanding tone, looking terrified.

"Look, it's not what you think." Greg began, rubbing a hand through his silver hair. "Yes, I'm with the police and I realise there are some...let's say _issues_, but it's my day off and I'm starving. All I care about for the moment is getting some food into you and warm you back up. No tricks, you can leave anytime you want, all right? Promise."

The twins didn't seem particularly convinced, still backing away towards the door.

Greg sighed. "Look, I'm gonna go and preheat the oven and if I come back and you're gone, that's fine. But if you like, make yourselves comfortable in the sitting room. There's crisps." With that, he turned around, back to the kitchen and tried not to be too hopeful.

Five minutes later, he couldn't help but smile at the sight that greeted him; the teens had squeezed themselves into an armchair, obviously not comfortable enough yet to keep a large distance between them, and were reading one of Mycroft's magazines.

They looked up when they heard the man enter, shyly smiling up at him.

"I'm Elijah and this is my sister, Emma." the boy introduced them and then added, blushing a bit; "And we really are kinda hungry."

* * *

"Did you make this? Like, from scratch?" Elijah asked, gaping at the huge bowl of vegetables and the lasagne Greg had put on the table.

"It's my husband's recipe, he's the cook. I just put it in the oven." the man chuckled, placing plates on the bar in front of the twins.

"A bloody good one, from the smell of it!" the boy grinned excitedly.

"You didn't have to do this." Emma said, shifting in her seat uncomfortably.

Greg shrugged. "Piece of cake."

"Not to us it's not." the girl murmured, twisting her fork between thumb and forefinger, carefully avoiding everyone's eyes.

"Look at it as payment for retrieving my briefcase."

Emma snorted. "It isn't payment, it's charity! 'Cause charity makes rich people feel good about themselves, giving them the sense of having accomplished something, of changing the world for the better."

"Emmy..." Elijah groaned, blushing at his sister's rant. "Sorry about her. We appreciate this, all of it, we really do."

"Speak for yourself." the girl huffed, earning herself a slap on the back of the head from her brother. She glared at him for a moment before turning to Greg, plastering an obviously fake smile on her face. "Thank you _so_ much, sir, we'll forever be in your debt."

"For fuck's sake!" Elijah snapped, throwing his hands in the air in a resigned fashion. Emma smirked at him.

"First of all, call me Greg." the DI chuckled, sitting down opposite the two brabbling teens. "And secondly, shut up, I get enough of _that_ at work."

The twins' eyes snapped up to the man, their mouths hanging open.

"I _really_ am thankful for the files, my boss would have flipped if I'd lost them. And this isn't charity. It's called being a decent human being. Besides, the house may have you think otherwise, but I didn't exactly grow up rich or privileged either. I know how hard it can be to get a decent meal, so stop squabbling for a moment and eat."

The twins picked up their forks, shared a half amused and half annoyed glance, and began to eat their salad. Greg mentally patted himself on the shoulder, satisfied.

They finished the starters in silence, the teens trying and failing to hide how hungry they really were, each accepting the offered seconds.

"So." Elijah started a while later, swallowing the pasta in his mouth before continuing. "How come you live in a posh place like this? Didn't know coppers earned this much."

"Married rich." the DI deadpanned before grinning and winking.

"Clever man." Emma said, trying to hide her own smile behind a spoon full of broccoli.

"Shit, he cooks and he's loaded? Good on you, mate!" Elijah laughed, holding out his hand for a fist-bump.

Greg chuckled and indulged him, earning himself a bright smile. "Not that any of that really matters when it comes down to it, though. Would've married the idiot even if he were piss poor and burned his corn flakes." he said dreamily, unable to help himself. John and Sherlock teased him relentlessly every time he zoned out thinking about Mycroft, but having the attractive politician to come home to more than made up for their childishness.

"How long have you been married?" Emma wanted to know, reaching for the bowl with the vegetables again.

The DI's heart clenched and he wondered just how long it had been since the two of them had eaten anything more than scabs or the occasional piece of junk food. "Married for almost a year, been together a bit over five now."

"And yet you're still completely smitten." the girl teased, finally starting to loosen up a fraction.

"Leave him alone, I think it's adorable!" Elijah tutted at his sister, who merely rolled her eyes, poking her tongue out at him.

Greg watched them with a fond expression, pushing his own food around his plate without actually eating any of it. Something sat heavy in his stomach, a little ball of envy, clawing at his insides, reminding him that this was a onetime thing, that the silly laughter, the bantering and the youthful spirit would be gone with them before long.

"Gregory?"

The grey-haired man jumped, startled, eyes wandering back to his guests. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked how you met, you and your husband." Emma repeated, drawing her legs up to her chest, chin resting on her knees.

"I arrested his brother."

Elijah snorted, almost choking on a piece of lasagne and his twin had to clap him on the back before he could speak again. "Unusual pick up tactics you got there."

Greg grinned and shrugged one shoulder. "Worked in the end, so..." he trailed off, hearing the clatter of Mycroft fiddling with his keys. "Speaking of the devil."

The redhead appeared in the kitchen a moment later and the twins immediately jumped up, straightening their clothes and extending their right hands with polite smiles.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, turning to his husband who tried not to smile like a dopey idiot at the teens' eagerness to please.

"Mycroft Holmes." the politician said, shaking the offered hands before turning back to Greg, bending down a bit to place a kiss on his husband's lips, hands resting on one stubbly cheek. The older man smiled and noticed that the two kids didn't seem to mind in the slightest that there were two men kissing in front of them. It only made him find them even more endearing.

"We didn't mean to intrude or anything, Mr Holmes." Elijah said quickly, uneasily hovering next to his chair, and Emma nodded, pressing a little closer to her brother.

Mycroft frowned at the two intimidated teens for a moment, efficiently running his eyes over them before nodding, waving for them to sit back down. "Don't worry about it." he said and opened his suit jacket, taking his seat next to his husband.

"Those are Emma and Elijah." Greg introduced the two, joyfully beaming at the redhead.

Mycroft frowned for a moment, studying the other man, who'd gone back to talking to the kids, laughing and gesturing wildly, causing the siblings – _twins, obviously_ – to giggle and snigger. Smiling fondly to himself, he picked up Greg's fork and a bit of lasagne, heart warming at the obvious delight on his usually so stressed husband's face.


	3. I'll Be There For You

**A/N:** Hello everyone! Here it is, the second chapter. Enjoy!

Also, I'll be away on holiday for the next two weeks, so no updates 'til I'm back. Sorry, please forgive me *ducks under a table*

And please, leave comments and tell me what you think about it. The lack of response makes me worry and bite my nails. No, I'm kidding, I do that no matter what. But still, reviews are nice. Cheers!

* * *

**Chapter Summary:** Greg plays 'happy family', because it's nice to pretend. Even if it's just for a little while.

* * *

**Warnings:** some swearing, (very mildly) implied child abuse

* * *

**I'll Be There For You  
**(by Bon Jovi)

"Stop cheating!" Elijah whined and threw his cards down on the bar, glaring at his twin.

"I'm not doing anything!" Emma insisted, matching her brother's angry expression.

"You're counting cards, that's cheating!"

"Well, so is _he_!" the girl huffed and pointed at Mycroft, who tried and failed to suppress the smile tugging at his lips.

"When I suggested playing a game, I wasn't thinking of blackjack. Just so you know." Greg butted in, amused.

The twins frowned at him in confusion.

"Let's play something different, yeah?" the silver-haired man asked, hoping to prevent what looked like something about to turn into a full-blown argument between the siblings.

"We know Liar's Poker or Dudo?!" Elijah offered and his sister added; "And Fan-Tan or Red Dog!"

"How about something a little less gambling related?" Mycroft chuckled, garnering the cards and putting them back in the pack.

"What the hell is Fan-Tan?" Greg mused and got up to retrieve some of his nephew's _proper_ board games from the guest room.

"It's a bit similar to roulette, but a lot simpler." Elijah explained when the DI returned with a stack of boxes.

"Choose whatever you like." Mycroft smiled and the twins eagerly started to look through the games, while the politician and his husband shared a concerned look. Neither wanted to think about the implications of two kids enjoying gambling and believing games of chance to be a normal pastime for people their age.

"That one sounds fun." Emma beamed, reading the description of 'Trivial Pursuit' on the back of the box.

Elijah wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, I don't wanna play something I know I'm going to lose at."

"How about we build teams?" Greg offered and the boy considered that for a moment before nodding.

"Fine, but you're with me." he told the DI before turning to his sister and smirking at her. "You can have the intimidating politician."

"I am taking that as a compliment." Mycroft informed the teen.

Emma merely shrugged one shoulder. "I'm going to win no matter what."

"A bit overconfident, are we?" Greg laughed as Elijah and his husband switched places and the girl readied the board.

* * *

Turned out it wasn't over-confidence. Half an hour into the game, Greg and Elijah were losing spectacularly. Bugger.

"What kind of question is that?" Emma demanded, looking affronted.

"Rugby is-" Greg began, only to be interrupted by a grinning Mycroft.

"Trivial." the redhead finished his husband's sentence.

Emma sniggered while Elijah appeared extremely offended. "I think rugby's fun."

"Which is only proving Mycroft's point." the girl grinned evilly, causing her brother to poke his tongue out at her.

"It is called '_Trivial_ Pursuit'!" the boy muttered and crossed his arms over his chest.

"So you don't know?" Greg asked and Emma scowled.

"No, I don't know. Why would I fill my brain with _useless crap_ like that?"

The silver-haired man chuckled, throwing Mycroft an amused look. "Next time we should invite your brother. They'd get along fabulously."

"Mm, they would indeed." the younger man agreed with a fond smile and a far-away look in his eyes and Greg knew he was just as done for as he himself was concerning the twins.

"Told you we'd lose." Elijah pouted, poking at a stack of cards with his middle finger.

Something in Emma's features changed, becoming softer and less competitive as her eyes flickered over the crushed boy opposite her.

Greg met Mycroft's gaze and the politician nodded, saying he'd seen it too.

* * *

"You let them win." Mycroft stated a while later, standing in the kitchen preparing some drinks with Emma seated on the bar, dangling her feet.

The girl shrugged and wriggled her toes. "You deliberately answered every third to fourth question wrong."

"I did no such thing." the politician said in mock shock, causing the teen to giggle.

"Oh, really? So what? You know the name of every single Prime Minister but _somehow_ not who was in office during World War II? I mean, _Winston bloody Churchill?_ Seriously?"

"Must have slipped my mind." Mycroft said innocently, putting the four glasses on a tray. "Memory isn't what it used to be at my age."

Emma quirked an amused eyebrow.

"Fine, that one was a bit obvious." the man admitted.

"A bit, yeah." the teen chuckled and slid down the floor, waiting for Mycroft to lead the way back to the sitting room.

But Mycroft hesitated. "Winning was important to you." he said after a moment of consideration.

"Elijah was upset." Emma stated matter-of-factly, staring at the man like he was a complete imbecile. A look Mycroft knew only too well and he supposed, thinking of all the silly little things he did for Sherlock without the other man noticing just to keep him happy, that, maybe, he was a little idiotic. Just a tiny little bit, though.

"That was a very nice thing to do."

The girl blushed and began inspecting her suddenly very interesting fingers. "He's my baby brother, I'm supposed to look after him."

"The burden of being the first born." Mycroft sighed dramatically and Emma sniggered.

"Well, you married the man who kept arresting your brother, that's an interesting way to look after your siblings."

"He told you about that, did he?" the redhead chuckled.

"Yep." the girl smirked, took the tray from the man and walked back out to the sitting room.

Mycroft stared after her for a moment, trying to ignore the warm feeling spreading through his chest, before shaking himself and joining the others for another round of games.

* * *

"Should we wake them up?" Greg asked, leaning against his husband's shoulder and watching the teens sleep, slumped against each other in what had quickly become 'their' armchair over the course of the evening.

"Mm, probably." Mycroft hummed, but didn't show the slightest inclination to move, wrapping and arm around the older man's waist and placing a kiss in his hair instead.

"I don't want them to go." the DI sighed and buried his face in the other man's neck.

"Gregory, we can't-"

"Yeah, I know." Greg mumbled into Mycroft's skin, clutching at his waistcoat. "It's just...I _really_ don't want them to go."

The politician sighed, rubbing a soothing hand over the other man's back in a gesture that clearly said _'I know, me neither, let's keep them here and safe and away from harm and love them even though we barely know them at all'_.

In the chair, Emma stirred, wrinkling her stubby nose when her brother rubbed his hair over her face.

The two men in the doorway broke out in identical fond smiles.

"Whass'the time?" Emma muttered, voice sleep-addled.

Mycroft peeled one arm away from his husband to see his watch. "Just after 10 o'clock."

"We should probably take you home and apologise to your parents for keeping you so long." Greg added and hated how stupid - _yes, stupid!_ - it was to do the sensible thing.

"No one's home anyway." Elijah yawned, blinking up at the two men. "There's no hurry...unless, you know, you need us to leave so-"

"No!" Greg said quickly, too quickly, and Mycroft shot him a _look_, which was ignored. "We have a guest room." the silver-haired blurted out and his husband shut his eyes in defeat, rubbing a hand over his face.

The twins were silent for a long moment and Greg's heart sank, but then Elijah yawned again, smiled and said; "Okay."

"Well, come on, then." Greg beamed and the twins stretched, shuffling after the man. "There's only one bed, but I think we have a lilo some-"

"'s fine." Emma waved a dismissive hand and flopped down face first on the mattress, humming contentedly.

Elijah rolled his eyes and pulled the covers back, much to his sister's disapproval, before draping them back over the girl.

"Mmnngh." Emma murmured and Elijah, somehow understanding his twin, nodded and said; "Yeah, I'll tell them."

"Do you need anything? More blankets or something to drink?" Greg asked sheepishly, scratching at his neck.

"Nah, we're good. Emma says thank you. This...it's really cool of you to let us stay here. Thanks." the boy mumbled, avoiding the two men's eyes and looking at the carpet instead.

"Don't worry about it, it's fine." Greg smiled and Mycroft added, much to his husband's surprise; "It's our pleasure."

"Well, yeah. Anyway, thank you guys. Really."

"Nnfgnh." Emma groaned and Elijah rolled his eyes, shot the two men one last smile and joined his sister, who proceeded to snuggle up to him and wrap her long limbs around him.

Greg absently reached for Mycroft's hand, squeezing it gently. "Sleep well."

"You too. And thanks." Elijah said, shoving at his twin in a futile attempt to find a comfortable position.

"Shu'uup." Emma scolded, already half asleep, and her brother huffed but complied, buried his face in her dishevelled hair and closed his eyes.

* * *

Mycroft was quiet. And Greg was worried. Swallowing hard, he approached the other man and wrapped his arms around the redhead from behind, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

"What'cha doing?"

Mycroft grunted, but didn't say anything else.

The older man sighed and stepped back, rubbing a hand over his face. The politician was angry. Shit. "It's almost midnight, are you coming to bed soon?"

"Not yet."

"Oh." the DI said, dumbly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and chewing on his lower lip.

"You should not have invited them to stay." Mycroft said after a while, eyes still glued to the computer screen.

"I'm sorry." Greg mumbled, knowing the other man was right. As usual.

"Gregory." Mycroft sighed and turned his chair, holding out his hands and finding himself with a lap full of police officer a moment later.

"Sorry." the silver-haired man whispered against Mycroft's lips before kissing him, slow and gentle.

Mycroft was the one to pull back, placing a hand on the other man's chest to keep a certain distance between them. "They weren't lying."

"What?" Greg frowned and took his husband's hand away from his chest, linking their fingers. "Who? About what?"

"The twins. It seems the only people to leave or enter the flat the last four days were the two of them."

"How-" the DI began and then sighed, deciding he didn't _really_ want to know how the redhead had found out about that little fact. "So, it isn't all that bad to let them stay here, right?" he said instead, running his free hand through Mycroft's hair.

Mycroft hummed and leaned into the touch. "It's you I'm worried about, Gregory."

"I'm fine." Greg insisted and Mycroft pulled back, looking up at the other man with sad eyes.

"No, you're not." the politician insisted, running a hand up and down his partner's side. "Promise me something?"

"What?"

"Let this rest. The twins, they have a family, albeit not the perfect one, but it's not your job to investigate. You are bound to get emotionally involved, Gregory. You already are. It's not healthy-"

"Myc-"

"No, please, let me finish. Give it a rest. We'll look into other options and we'll find something that works for us. But not like this. Can you do that?"

"I don't know." Greg admitted and pressed his forehead against the other man's with a sigh and offered; "I'll try?"

Mycroft smiled and stretched, capturing his husband's lips with his own. "Good enough." he breathed between kisses, hands wandering down to Greg's hips, squeezing gently.

"Are you coming to bed?" the silver-haired man asked again and rubbed his nose against his husband's, causing the younger man to chuckle and nod before demanding another kiss.

* * *

Mycroft woke up to noise coming from somewhere in the flat. He tried to turn and, after disentangling himself from his clingy husband, craned his neck to see the clock. Just after 4 o'clock in the morning. Frowning, the redhead got up, grabbed his dressing gown and slid out into the hall, following the sounds all the way to the sitting room.

His first thought when he spotted the twins rummaging through one of the cupboards was; _'Dear lord, we've let two strangers into our home and they're going to rob us blind!'_ His second thought - which, somehow, was even more worrying than the first - was; '_They are going to leave without saying goodbye and Gregory's going to be heartbroken.'_

"Look, travel chess. You like chess."

Mycroft, who'd been about to step into the light and make himself known, hesitated at Emma's words.

"All right?" the girl asked her twin, who nodded weakly. "Okay. Sit down, I'll get you some water."

Elijah flopped down on the sofa, wrapping the blanket he was still carrying closer around himself and giving the politician the chance to properly look at his face. Mycroft noticed immediately that the boy had been crying - runny nose, red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks. The man's hand grabbed the edge of the wall a little harder, willing himself to stay put, not thinking that his interference in this somewhat intimate moment would be welcome.

"Here, drink this." Emma smiled and kneeled down in front of her brother, putting the glass in his hand and watching as he downed half of it in one go. "Better?"

"A bit." the boy croaked and his sister smiled, using her thumbs to brush some of the tears away from his cheeks.

"Robert?" she asked and Elijah nodded again. "Stupid wanker." Emma sighed and crawled up on the sofa, huddling close to her twin and resting her head on his shoulder.

"You don't know how to play chess." Elijah suddenly said and broke out in giggles.

"Shut it, you're gonna wake everyone up!" Emma warned, but couldn't hold back her own laughter.

It took them several minutes to quiet down, each setting the other off again every time they looked at each other.

"You can teach me." the girl finally managed and picked up the travelling chess set, placing it on her knees. "How do I set it up?"

Elijah barked out another laugh. "You are a _terrible_ student. You're gonna get mad and pissy 'cause I'm better than you. You hate losing."

"And you love being a smart arse." Emma pointed out and then, after her brother's words had fully sunken in, added; "And I do _not_ get pissy!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Witch!"

"Dick!"

"Cunt!"

"Pillock!"

"Cow!"

"Very imaginative, little brother!"

"Eight minutes." Elijah groaned and pinched his sister's arm.

"Still older." Emma grinned and poked out her tongue, only to get tackled a moment later. "Get off, you nutter!" the girl squeaked, arms flailing about helplessly.

"Nope. Not until you apologise." Elijah decided, tickling her belly and sides.

"Apologise for what?" his twin demanded, breathlessly.

"For being a cow!"

"Moo?!" Emma laughed and the boy charged again, causing them both to break out in another fit of giggles.

"What the fuck is going on out here?" Greg yawned, coming up behind his husband and startling both the twins and Mycroft.

"Sorry, we didn't mean to wake you up." Elijah said, embarrassed, and scrambled away from his sister, who sat up as well to see over the back of the sofa.

"What are you doing?" Greg asked and then turned to the politician, frowning. "What are _you_ doing?" he demanded and Mycroft blushed at being caught spying.

"Elijah had a nightmare." Emma explained, earning herself a kick from her brother. "What? It's true!" she grumbled, rubbing at her shin.

Greg, still a little drowsy, stared for a few more moments before shrugging and moving to the kitchen. "Hot chocolate?" he shouted over his shoulder and the twins' eyes lit up, both jumping up and quickly running after him.

Mycroft took a minute to wipe the guilty look off his face before going after them. By the time he reached the kitchen, the teens were standing in front of the stove, arguing about who got to stir the bubbly brown liquid in the pot, and Greg watched them with that dreamy look again.

"Made enough for you too." the silver-haired man smiled when he sensed his husband and wrapped his arms around the taller man's waist, stretching to place a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Cute." Emma decided, causing both men to blush and Greg to bury his face in Mycroft's pyjama top. With a satisfied grin, the girl turned back around to take the whisk away from her brother, who called her a 'controlling arse' in return.

* * *

"Call if you need something, _anything_. All right?" Greg asked as the twins stood in the door the next morning, ready to leave and a piece of paper with the man's mobile number in hand.

"Okay." Elijah smiled and, after chewing it over for a moment, hugged the surprised DI around the middle. "Thanks. For everything." the boy mumbled into the man's chest, hands curling into the back of his shirt.

Emma watched, taken aback, before her eyes wandered to Mycroft. With a little shrug, she closed the distance between them and circled her arms around the politician. "Thank you."

"No worries." Mycroft said and patted her on the shoulder somewhat awkwardly.

Greg laughed at his husband's gobsmacked look, ruffling Elijah's hair before stepping back. "Don't be strangers." he reminded them again and the twins nodded, waving at the two men as the skipped down the stairs.

The older man's face fell the moment the two teens were out of sight and he turned to his husband, stepping into his already outstretched arms.

And Mycroft held him, not saying a word about the wet spot forming on his shirt, and stroked a gentle hand up and down his husband's back while his own heart clenched painfully.


	4. Don't You Let Me Down

**A/N:** I managed to finish this and begin the next chapter while still on holiday. Just for you guys, so you better like it. No, I'm kidding of course, though I do hope that you enjoy it.

* * *

**Chapter Summary:** Greg can't let go and maybe that's not even such a bad thing.

* * *

**Warnings:** swearing, mentions of violence and drug use/overdose, description of mental illnesses (no idea, mentioned just to be on the safe side)

* * *

**Don't You Let Me Down**  
(by KISS)

Greg was staring at his computer screen, worrying his lower lip to the point of it starting to crack. PC Cooper had sent him the files a bit over two hours ago and he'd shut himself in his office immediately, closing the blinds and barking orders not to be disturbed unless it was an absolute emergency.

With an exhausted sigh, the DI closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face, scratching at the faint stubble on his jaw. He really should have listened to Mycroft this time - not that he'd admit that in front of his husband, but still. The man had been right, of course he had been, he was Mycroft bloody Holmes.

_'Do keep out of this, Gregory. You're bound to get emotionally involved.'_, the politician had warned and, as was his standard setting, Greg had ignored him and went along with his poorly thought out plan and had become emotionally involved, badly so.

"Bollocks." the grey-haired man muttered under his breath and sat up a bit straighter, scrolling back up to the top of the file. The whole thing had started out being genuine concern about the teens' wellbeing, but something didn't add up. And Greg was a Detective Inspector, it was his _job_ to investigate if something didn't add up. And yes, okay, _maybe_ he wouldn't have shown such an interest if he hadn't personally know the children involved or if he'd had children of his own or if he didn't feel that strange, terrifying emptiness every time he thought about not having children of his own. Maybe. But sod that.

Sucking in his lower lip, he began to read again.

_'Elijah Benjamin Norton & Emma Sophia Norton, born May 28th 2000 to Kelly Ann Norton (born 1982, deceased) and Robert Patrick O'Neill (born 1974) at Queen Mary's Hospital, London.'_

Thirteen. Greg had put them at around sixteen or seventeen. Children, they were still _children_. He pressed the down arrow on his keyboard a tad more forcefully than strictly necessary.

_'Children Elijah Benjamin Norton and Emma Sophia Norton were given into the custody of the Farnsworth Institution on December 23rd, 2003, following the death of biological mother Kelly Ann Norton and the court ordered treatment for drug addiction of biological father Robert Patrick O'Neill. Custody was returned (with reservations) to the biological father after the successful completion of a three-monthly rehabilitation programme.'_

The DI clicked on the file of the twins' mother, skipping everything up until the cause of death. Intentional heroin overdose at the age of twenty-one. He switched back to the first file.

_'Parental rights of Robert Patrick O'Neill were revoked after his arrest on August 26th, 2004, for armed robbery under the influence of narcotics. Children Elijah Benjamin Norton and Emma Sophia Norton were given into the custody of their paternal grandmother, Maddy O'Neill (born 1951), currently residing in London.'_

On his first read-through, Greg had dared to hope for an improvement of the kids' situation after they'd been sent to another family member's home. Several hours and a lot of frustrated hair-pulling later, he knew better.

_'Children Elijah Benjamin Norton and Emma Sophia Norton were removed from the home of their paternal grandmother, Maddy O'Neill, following her arrest for possession of illegal substances on March 8th, 2005. Children were given into the custody of Saint Philip Home for Children in London.'_

Greg reached for his mug, downing the rest of his coffee, unbothered by the fact that it had grown cold.

_'After careful consideration it has been decided that it is tenable to separate children Elijah Benjamin Norton and Emma Sophia Norton. EBN was relocated to Horton's Academy for Boy's on September 1st, 2006. Custody remains with the Department for Education (Mr Rory Preston, social worker) until further notice. ESN has been given into the custody of foster parents Mike and Eve Slippery on November 23rd, 2006. It was encouraged to keep the siblings in regular contact.'_

The DI snorted at the last sentence, anger starting to rise again. He knew only too well, from work _and_ personal experience, what 'encouraged' meant - absolutely nothing.

_'Foster parents Mike and Eve Slippery are no longer willing to care for Emma Sophia Norton, following several incidents of extremely violent behaviour from ESN directed towards her foster siblings and parents. Custody has been handed back to the Department for Education (Mr Rory Preston, social worker) on January 2nd, 2008. ESN has been relocated to the South Bexley Correctional Institution for psychological evaluation.'_

There were dozens of pages graphically describing Emma's aggressions, all of which Greg ignored for the moment, knowing full well that he himself would have thrown a massive fit if he and his siblings had been split up during their parents' worst times.

_'Elijah Benjamin Norton has been relocated to the South Bexley Correctional Institution for psychological evaluation on May 3rd, 2008, following several incidents of extremely violent behaviour towards his peers and teachers as well as two separate cases of arson on school grounds. It is recommended to keep children EBN and ESN together if possible.'_

There was a knock on the door, followed by an impatient groan as it was pushed open, revealing a seething Sergeant Donovan and a tall, lanky detective covered in-

"Sewage?" Greg asked, wrinkling his nose and raising an eyebrow.

"You don't want to know." John, coming up behind Sherlock and not looking much better than his boyfriend, muttered through clenched teeth, glaring at the younger man's back.

"Fair enough. What can I help you two gents with today, then?" the DI asked with an obviously faked cheerfulness.

Sherlock merely rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored the man, lounging into a monologue about a dog, rat poison and an evidencing pack of cigarettes flushed down someone's toilet.

Accepting that he was going to be occupied for God only knows how long, Greg locked his screen and shared one of their _'we-are-obviously-deranged-to-put-up-with-that-mad man'_-looks with John.

* * *

Mycroft sensed his husband's frustration as soon as the man stepped through the front door, shoulders slumped and eyes distant.

"Tea?" the politician smiled, rising from his position on the sofa to greet Greg with a soft, close-mouthed kiss. The older man hummed, leaning his head against Mycroft's shoulder, sighing heavily.

"Something stronger."

The redhead gently eased Greg off of himself and the DI fell into an armchair, closing his eyes and drawing in on himself. That wasn't good.

Mycroft quickly fixed them both a drink, figuring whatever had managed to so completely crush his husband's spirits definitely demanded a bit of alcohol, and carried the two crystal tumblers over to the coffee table. He perched on the arm of Greg's chair, weaving the fingers of his free hand through the man's silvery hair.

"Mm." Greg murmured in what the other man, after so many years together, identified as a _'Thank you, I love you so much, please don't stop, I hate everything right now!'_, desperately leaning into the touch.

The redhead continued with his ministrations, watching the DI relax and melt into the contact, waiting for most of the irritation to seep away before speaking again. "What did you do?"

Greg groaned and turned, burying his face in Mycroft's chest and hating the fact that the man was able to perfectly read him without any effort at all. It was unfair and Greg pouted as he spoke. "Say it."

The younger man quirked an eyebrow, knowing that Greg knew, even though he couldn't see him from his position in Mycroft's shirt.

Greg snorted. "Don't pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about. I know you're burning to rub it in my face."

Mycroft sighed, but complied. "I told you so." he said and then added, softly; "And I'm appalled that you would accuse me of enjoying anything that's causing you pain."

"Leave it to you to console and guilt trip me at the same time." the older man complained, not overly enthusiastic, and nuzzled against his husband's jaw, brushing a few kisses over it.

"You pulled their files." It wasn't a question.

"I just..._I had to_." Greg said and winced, realising how utterly stupid that sounded.

"Of course you did." Mycroft smiled fondly, tipping his head to catch the other man's lips with his own.

"Are you mad?" Greg asked, blinking his big, brown eyes at Mycroft - couldn't hurt, right?

A grin tugged at the politician's lips and he got up, ignoring the DI's whining, and vanished in their study, reappearing with a stack of papers a moment later, holding them out to Greg before resuming his seat.

"What's that?" the shorter man asked as he began to flip through them. His eyes went wide when the realisation hit. "_You_ pulled their files? Why?"

Mycroft shrugged one shoulder and sucked in his lower lip in lack of a sensible answer and Greg loved him for it.

"Did you read them?" the older man asked and the redhead shook his head. Greg leaped into action, ruffling through the papers for two specific files. "Here, read those, the psychiatrist's final reports from three years ago, and tell me there's nothing fishy about this whole situation."

Mycroft frowned but accepted the papers, absently nudging at his husband's side, urging him to move over, and settled into the armchair next to him. Greg smiled at the gesture of familiarity, pressed a kiss to the side of the younger man's neck and began to reread the text over Mycroft's shoulder.

_'Patient Emma Sophia Norton has, after careful evaluation, been diagnosed with a severe form of Antisocial Personality Disorder (AsPD), showing several signs of sociopathic tendencies. The patient is prone to deceive and outright lie in order to achieve personal profit and/or pleasure. Emma is a remarkably skilled and highly intelligent young girl, using her eloquence to gain desired and otherwise unattainable favours from the people in her surroundings. She acts exceedingly impulsive and fails to plan ahead/anticipate the consequences of her actions. Emma is highly irritable and has a disposition to reacting with physical aggression at the slightest provocation. She possesses a dangerous recklessness and disregard for her own safety as well as a lack of remorse, being indifferent or trying to rationalise her wrong/aggressive behaviour. Emma shows a clear incapacity to experience guilt or to profit from experience, particularly punishment. She is easily bored and in need of constant stimulation in order to keep her from acting out and/or fall into a depression-like state.'_

Greg carefully watched his husband's expression turn from confused and intrigued to painfully nostalgic and finally completely blank, only the tight clench of his jaw betraying the emotion underneath. It didn't take a genius to make the connections and guess whom the younger man was thinking of - which was exactly why Greg had wanted him to read the girl's file. Even if unwillingly so, Mycroft had become an expert on children being diagnosed with AsPD - wrongly so in his brother's case, as Sherlock was proving with John time and time again.

"This is bullshit."

The silver-haired man raised an amused eyebrow. Mycroft using swearwords was a very rare occurrence.

"Well, it _is_." the politician huffed, glaring at the passage as if it had personally offended him.

"Read Elijah's." Greg demanded, curiously, and the younger man did.

_'Patient Elijah Benjamin Norton has, after careful evaluation, been diagnosed with Selective Mutism (SM) and a severe form of Avoidant Personality Disorder (AvPD). The patient consistently fails to speak in certain social situations (therapy sessions, school) despite speaking in other situations. The failure to speak is not due to a lack of knowledge of or comfort with the spoken language required in the mentioned situations, as Elijah is a very eloquent and highly skilled young boy. He is the most communicative around sister Emma Sophia Norton, but the constant use of 'twin language' and non-verbal communication makes it near impossible to differentiate between the patient's and his sister's opinions/thoughts/emotions. Elijah is hypersensitive to rejection, possesses extremely low self-esteem and is highly self-critical. He is plagued by feelings of inadequacy and extreme shyness in the mentioned social situations. The patient is prone to depression and self-harm.'_

Mycroft put the files down on his knees, eyebrows drawn together in deep thought.

"So?" the DI inquired, staring at his husband hopefully. If one of the cleverest people in Britain believed something to be suspect, it just had to be.

"These are not the children I met last week." Mycroft finally said, gravely, nibbling at his thumbnail. "Unless they are the two most terrific actors of the modern age."

"Exactly!" Greg exclaimed, shoving the papers to the floor in order to swing his legs over Mycroft's lap. The redhead grunted at the mess in disapproval, but Greg only rolled his eyes and continued. "Elijah is the most open and outgoing kid I've ever met. Or did he seem shy to you?"

"Quite the opposite." Mycroft agreed, pensively.

"And Emma, she's...you saw how protective she was towards her brother, a _blind person_ could see how much she loves him. Myc, something about this whole situation seems off. I got a bad feeling."

The politician sighed, looking torn. "Gregory, we hardly know those children-"

"Yeah, I know. But there's more!" The police officer in Greg was at full speed now. "Their father, he was arrested in '04 for armed robbery under the influence of narcotics and sentenced to fourteen years. But he got out after only six 'cause of a _technicality_. The owner of the corner store he robbed withdrew his statement, completely out of the blue, years later. And another witness just vanished."

"Vanished?" Mycroft questioned, sceptically.

"Yep." the detective nodded. "Vanished. The _'the-government-was-mad-at-me-so-they-killed-me-an d-hid-the body'_ kind of vanished."

"That is _not_ how we operate!" the politician protested and scowled at his husband.

Greg snorted, patting Mycroft's knee. "Of course not, love." The glare he got in response was withering and he held up his hands in defence, only smirking a little as he continued. "Anyway, so their father got out and a month later, they gave him back full custody and all parental rights. The guy who did their evaluations, a Dr Hans Keller, claimed the kids' psychological problems issued from their father's wrongful imprisonment and the resulting emotional trauma."

It was Mycroft's turn to snort. "Well, that doesn't sound suspicious _at all_."

"Glad we're on the same page. So, the father gets the okay to take back the two and after that, everything just stops. There's no more records about any of them, Myc. Not about the twins, not about the father, this Dr Keller, the social worker...anyone involved, really. Officially, they retired, moved or quit, but their records _stop_. It's like they simply ceased to exist."

The redhead was quiet for a few moments, considering all the information. "What do you want me to do?" he finally asked, carefully looking the other man over.

Greg smiled and took a hold of Mycroft's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "Can you dig a little? I'm stretched to my limits here, my priority doesn't go up nearly high enough. And could you, you know, keep an eye on the twins? Just...make sure they're okay?"

"Gregory-" Mycroft began, then interrupted himself to rub at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Does this have anything to do with your wish to become a father? Are you substituting those twins for the children we do not have?"

"Yes." Greg admitted quick like a shot. What was the point in lying? His husband would see right through it, he always did.

"Okay." the younger man said, pointedly staring anywhere but at Greg.

"Are you going to tell me to drop it?" the silver-haired man asked, flatly, more than ready to argue about this if necessary.

"No. No, I'm not." Mycroft sighed, then faced Greg and smiled. "No, I'm right there with you, Greg."

An enormous smile spread across the DI's face and he all but lunged at his husband, throwing his arms around the man's neck to pull him close. "You have no idea how fucking much I love you, Myc." he breathed in relief, pressing their foreheads together.

"I'm fairly sure I do." Mycroft said, casually, cupping the other man's face, rubbing a thumb over his stubbly cheek.

Greg rolled his eyes, still grinning like a little boy in a sweet shop. "Shut up and kiss me, you stupid genius!" he demanded and Mycroft complied happily.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so as you've probably realised, I don't have any idea how the social system works. Like really, none at all. So cut me some slack there. Please? And about the weird evaluations, yes, they'll play a vital part during the rest of this story. Oh, the excitement!


	5. Sweet Little Sister

**A/N:** Hello? Anyone out there? No? Yes? Anyway, here's the next chapter, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Summary:** Just a normal day in the life of our favourite twins.

* * *

**Warnings:** violence, child abuse, drugs

* * *

**Sweet Little Sister**  
(by Skid Row)

The sun was a vile, heartless bitch!

Elijah groaned, blindly fumbling for a pillow to pull over his head. His endeavours were met with an annoyed grunt from his twin after he accidentally slapped her in the face during the process.

"Wha'you doi'n?" Emma demanded sleepily, holding on to her blanket as she rolled over the mattress, successfully transforming herself into a warm, content human fajita.

"Too bright!" the boy explained and stretched, trying to close the curtain by grabbing it with his bare feet.

"Do we need'o ge'up a'ready?" his sister asked and he grinned fondly at her every morning drowsiness.

"We have a couple of minutes." the boy said, giving up on his quest to darken up the room.

"Awesome." Emma yawned and crawled over to her brother to tuck her head under his chin with a small, satisfied hum.

Elijah smiled, wrapped his arms around his sister and nuzzled his face into her dishevelled hair. "They turned off the heat again."

"Mm." the girl mumbled, noncommittally, struggling to keep awake.

They lay in silence for a while, dozing, until the boy spoke again. "How much did you make yesterday?"

Emma yawned again and peeled open her eyes, brows drawn together in concentration. "Sold almost everything. About four hundred and fifty pounds."

The boy raised a surprised eyebrow, causing his twin to smirk at him mischievously.

"I stretched it. We need some new clothes. It's fucking freezing outside, in case you didn't notice."

"Idiot." Elijah sighed, not without a certain fondness, and stretched to reach the nightstand, producing several small zip lock bags. "I got three left. And some pills. But I-"

The boy clipped his mouth shut and froze when the front door was banged open. Emma was up and in front of her twin in a heartbeat, taking in a shielding position between him and the open door to the hall.

"Breakfast." Robert announced in passing, vanished in the kitchen and began to rummage around. "I hope for your sakes that you took care of the lab."

The girl snorted and pecked her brother on the forehead consolingly before rolling out of bed and joining their father in the kitchen. Elijah took the discarded blanket and buried himself under it, trying to steady his panicked breathing.

"Cheeseburgers, you shouldn't have." he heard his sister drawl and then there was a slap, skin against skin, followed by a crash as the girl hit some of the furniture.

Severely concerned, the boy slid out of bed and almost fell over the trash on the floor in his haste to get to the other room.

He reached the kitchen just in time to see his twin swat at Robert's hand, glaring. "Don't touch me!" she barked, probing at her bloody lower lip with her tongue.

Robert ran a hand through his thinning hair and kicked over a stack of old newspapers. "Why do you have to talk back _all the time_?" he demanded, eyes darting around frantically, pupils blown wide. High, as usual.

"Why do you have to be such a massive arsehole?" Emma shot back, earning herself another slap, Robert's fist colliding hard with her left eye this time.

The man stared in obvious confusion, first at his hand, then at his cursing daughter, who hissed as Elijah gently pressed the wet – and hopefully more or less clean - cloth he had retrieved from the sink to her face.

"Listen here-" Robert began, threateningly, and stepped closer, but the girl placed a firm hand on his chest, shoving him away.

"Fuck off! Go check on your stuff and get the hell away from me!"

"How dare you talk to your own father like this?" the man growled and lashed out.

Emma, having seen it coming this time, quickly stepped out of the way and made a move for the exit, but Robert caught her by her shit and whirled her back around, glaring dangerously.

Elijah jumped away and watched the two of them from his new position frozen against the opposite wall, fear written all over his face. His sister had always been the one to stand up to their father, provoking and annoying him in an attempt to draw his attention away from his son. There were few things Robert enjoyed more than humiliating and hurting the boy for his empathy and sensitiveness - or his 'queer, girly behaviour', as the man liked to call it. And Elijah was glad, _relieved_, whenever Emma managed to distract the bastard, but the prize she paid for it was way too high. But try telling _that_ to the stubborn, protective git.

"I won't hesitate to break your hand if you don't let go of me right fucking now!" Emma growled and yanked at her arm, digging her nails into Robert's hand holding on to her wrist.

"My money." the man demanded and tightened his hold. Emma's mouth twitched, but apart from that she gave no indication of being in pain at all, narrowing her eyes at the fuming Robert.

"No!" she snarled, stubbornly, and kept pulling at her arm until Robert finally let go with an annoyed huff. "I'm gonna use that to buy some food and clothes, it's almost winter and we need something warmer."

"I brought you food!" Robert groaned and gestured at the cheeseburgers scattered around the table.

Emma barked out a cynical laugh. "_Real food!_ How long are those supposed to last, eh?"

"Fine, I'll buy some more and-"

"No, you won't." the girl interrupted and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're gonna go out, get completely wankered and forget about us for the next couple of days until you need some more cash."

"Give me the fucking money!" Robert snapped, furiously, and pushed past his daughter, who latched on to his back and sank her teeth into the man's shoulder.

Elijah still couldn't move, hands trembling at his sides. He listened to his sister and father shout and throw profanities at each other until, after several minutes of this, the front door opened and slammed shut again and silence fell over the flat.

"You okay?"

The boy's eyes snapped up to his sister, leaning against the table, one hand absently rubbing at her swollen wrist. The nervous giggles made their way out of his throat without his permission. "Am _I_ okay? You stupid idiot, what were you thinking?"

Emma shrugged and smiled shyly and Elijah knew that she was trying to say _'He would have hurt you much more than he has me and I love you and I will always protect you, you prat!'_ and so he smiled too and crossed the room, pulling his twin into a hug.

"How bad is it?"

"I'm fine." the girl insisted and Elijah snorted, rubbing his nose against his sister's.

"Let me have a look." he said gently and Emma flopped down in a chair, grumbling but otherwise compliant as her twin cleaned the blood off her face and applied band aids here and there. "I should've helped you." he sighed after a few minutes and stepped back, worrying at his lower lip.

"And get beaten up as well? Don't be inane." the girl dismissed and took a hold of Elijah's hips, urging him closer until she was able to rest her forehead against his chest.

Elijah sighed and weaved his fingers into her hair, resting his chin on top of his sister's head. "But I-"

"Shut up."

"I'm seriou-"

"Shut up."

"Emma, this-"

"Shush."

"Love you, you nutter." the boy laughed, unable to help himself. If she didn't want to, it was impossible to have a serious conversation with his sister.

Emma, after burying her face in her brother's shirt, mumbled "Oof u oo." which Elijah knew meant_ 'Love you too.'_ and was the only way his soppiness-abhorring twin was ever going to talk about her feelings.

"I know." he smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head and Emma hummed her agreement and tightened her arms around the boy.

* * *

"Okay let's see...get some rice, the cheap one."

Emma wrinkled her nose, but did as she was told and soon dumped the five kilo bag into their shopping cart.

"Pasta and potatoes." Elijah continued as he scribbled the prices down on a small piece of paper - to total everything together later - and his twin scurried around the shop, gathering the requested items.

_"Elijah!"_

The boy looked up at his sister's excited voice, watching her skip toward him, her arms full of tin cans - beans, tomato soup, peas, mushrooms and ravioli from what he could see.

"We can't afford these." he sighed, but Emma shook her head and let them fall into the cart anyway.

"They're dented. They'll be cheap."

Elijah narrowed his eyes at the girl. "Were they dented when you picked them up?"

"Yes." Emma said and then, when her brother quirked an eyebrow, admitted; "Most of them were."

"Emma, you can't just-"

"Oh come _on!_" his sister groaned. "It's not like I'm stealing anything."

At that, several people whipped their heads around to stare. Elijah blushed, shooting the girl a warning look.

"What? I said I _wasn't_ stealing!" Emma hissed in the other customer's direction.

"That's why you normally stay at home, you know." Elijah pointed out, steering the cart, plus one twin who had decided to ride on top of it, to the frozen goods section.

The girl waved one hand about dramatically. "I hid part of the money from Robert, so I get to go along and make sure you buy sensible stuff."

"_'Sensible stuff'_ being accidentally damaged tins and sweets?" the boy asked, grinning, when Emma grabbed a hand full of Double Decker's from a shelf as they drove by.

"Mm, exactly." the girl smirked and then promptly began to pout when Elijah slapped her hand away to prevent her from taking a whole box of Malteser packs as well.

* * *

Groceries - including two small packs of Maltesers - stowed away at home, the twins stood outside the nearby shopping mall in their 'new' second-hand wool coats, scarves and gloves, trying to ignore the steady drizzle as they waited for one of their father's clients.

"How much money do we have left?" Emma asked, teeth clattering.

Elijah rummaged around in his pocket for a moment, producing a crumpled note and several coins. "Bit more than six pounds."

"Schnaps?" the girl asked and her brother sighed, but nodded and handed over the money.

"Be right back." Emma smiled and vanished inside the small kiosk - the one not checking IDs - returning with a small bottle of Kirsch mere minutes later. After blowing on her stiff fingers for a few moments, she unscrewed the lid and took a few big gulps, grimacing at the taste.

Elijah reached for the bottle and copied his twin, down to the disgusted expression. "How come this stuff is cheaper than tea or coffee?"

"'cause it tastes horrible." Emma shrugged and grinned, taking another swig. "Besides, it keeps you warm longer."

"Or gets you pissed enough so you stop giving a shit about being cold." the boy giggled and his twin snorted.

"Cheers to that!" she laughed and passed the alcohol back before huddling close to her brother, offering body warmth as much as comfort for the depressing fact that they were drinking at 11 o'clock on a Thursday morning.

It wasn't long until they spotted someone who had the potential to be the right person and, after a shared glance and a nod, followed the man into a nearby alley. The client pulled a knife the moment the three of them had turned a corner, demanding his drugs and all their money - which, sadly, wasn't as rare an occurrence as one would like it to be.

"Seriously?" Emma groaned, more annoyed at the inconvenience than anything else, and once again stepped between their assailant and her brother. "We don't even have any money. I mean _look at us!_"

"Give it 'ere!" the man hissed impatiently, ignoring the girl and waving his knife about.

Elijah, partly covered behind his twin, discretely checked his watch and silently cursed. There was a patrol due any minute and they almost always came down this particular alley to look for people doing exactly what they were doing right now. He nudged his sister's back and the girl nodded her understanding.

"Look, mate," she began, holding up her hands in an attempt to calm the man down, "there's two officers coming by here any minute. Just leave and we'll forget anything ever happened, yeah?"

The man, with a snarl, jumped at the twins and managed one swipe with his knife before Emma rammed her knee into his groin, sending him to the floor with a surprised, agonised cry.

"Now, if you'd be so kind; your money!" the girl barked as she kicked away the weapon and bent down, searching through the man's pockets.

"Emma, no!" Elijah said sternly and pulled her back up. "We do not rob people!"

His twin snorted and glared. "_He_ was threatening _us_ with a knife. _He_ was trying to rob _us_."

"Doesn't matter, we-"

They both looked up at the sound of footsteps getting closer and vanished into the adjacent, busier main street just a few moments before two men in uniform walked around the corner.

* * *

"You should get that looked after properly." Elijah sighed, knowing full well that his sister would do no such thing and that they couldn't afford a doctor anyway, as he fixed the bandages around her lower arm.

The girl dismissively waved her hands about. "'Tis but a scratch!" she grinned. "I'm invincible!"

"I have no quarrel with you, good Madam Knight. But I must tend to this injury." the boy snickered and tried to hold his sister's flailing limbs still.

"Then you shall die!" Emma announced and stabbed a finger at her twin's chest, giggling, the adrenaline still running high from the fight.

"Emmy, seriously." Elijah said sternly, lips still twitching. His sister sighed, but slumped back on their bed and held out her injured arm again.

"It's really just a scratch."

"That looks like it needed stitches." the boy pointed out, eyes fixed on his task.

"Just pull the bandage real tight so everything's held together." Emma shrugged and winced when her brother did as asked.

"Who's the one with the impeccable self-preservation instincts again?" he smirked and quirked an eyebrow, earning himself a kick to the shin.

"Shut up!"

* * *

"Try not to kill us, please." Elijah said warily, watching his sister tinker with..._something_ in what used to be their living room slash Robert's bedroom and was now half storage for mostly illegal things and half a bloody drug lab.

"I know what I'm doing." Emma rolled her eyes at him, voice muffled through the shirt she'd tied in front of her face to keep her from inhaling the fumes. "As much as it pains me to admit it, Robert actually knows what he's doing when it comes to this stuff. And he taught me well."

The boy snorted. "As if these things never blow up just like that."

"Well, it's either this or explaining to Robert why his clients are suddenly left stranded." Emma sighed absently, hurrying around adjusting things here and there.

Elijah, after watching for another moment, shot her a small smile and went back to cooking - much safer chemistry, thank you very much! - knowing that _this_, however ridiculous it might sound, was the better and safer of the two options.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Elijah very nearly jumped out of his skin at his sister's voice and tried to hide the tiny strip of paper, even though the girl had clearly already seen it.

"Give it here." Emma sighed as she flopped down on their bed next to the boy and held out her hand. "You know we can't."

"Just for the weekend, they told us to call. And Robert won't be back 'til Tuesday or Wednesday, so I thought-"

"No." Emma repeated and raised an expectant eyebrow at her brother.

The boy bit at his lower lip, torn. "The heat's off and it won't be long until they turn off the electricity as well."

"We've got blankets and candles."

"But-"

"No, Elijah, we can't!" Emma snapped, exasperated, and pulled Greg's phone number out of her twin's hand, stuffing the paper into her pocket. "If Robert finds out about this he's gonna kill us. Maybe even literally this time."

"Please," Elijah pleaded, "he'll never get wind of this. He has no idea-"

_"Stop it!"_ the girl shouted, voice trembling. "We are _not_ getting our hopes up, it's _not_ going to happen, all right? They'll be happy to see us, this time and maybe the time after that. But it won't last, it never does. They have a life, Eli, a life and jobs and friends and a family. We're strangers, we don't fit in there, we're not supposed to fit in there. And I won't let you get invested and fall in love with the idea that, despite all the odds, they'll decide to keep seeing us, keep having us over. We do _not_ belong with them and you damn well know it!"

"Emmy..." the boy croaked, lower lip trembling.

"No, don't you dare!" Emma warned, but pulled her brother close and the duvet over them both, shielding them and locking the rest of the world away. "Please don't." she whispered and pressed their foreheads together, unable to hold back her own tears as soon as she felt her twin's starting to stain both their cheeks.

"I hate this." Elijah sniffled and the girl simply nodded, because what more was there to say about the fucked up mess that was their life?


	6. Care For You

**A/N:** A new chapter already? Why yes, it is! I'm slightly drunk, forgive me. And enjoy!  
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* * *

**Chapter Summary:** Greg runs into the twins again. On accident. No, really, Mycroft, _I swear!_

* * *

**Warnings:** swearing, underage drinking

* * *

**Care For You**  
(by Dokken)

The first time he ran into them again, it really was a coincidence.

Greg and Sally were driving by what looked like a party about to escalate on their way back from a crime scene and, after sharing a long-suffering look, decided to break it up before it became another one for their division. Which was considerably less trouble than first imagined; most of the teens bolted as soon as they spotted the cruiser. The two who hung back were no strangers.

"Stay here, I'll handle this one." Greg smiled to himself as he slid out of the car.

"Sir, are you-" Sally began, only to have her boss slam the door right in her face. "Right." she frowned, but stayed put.

The twins smiled, albeit a bit nervously, and Elijah even gave him a small, shy wave as he approached.

"We weren't doing anything wrong." was the first thing Emma said when the DI was within hearing-range.

Greg sighed and stopped a few steps away, running a hand through his silver hair. "That's not what people who weren't doing anything wrong usually say."

"What do you want?" the girl demanded and Elijah rolled his eyes, shooting the DI an apologetic look.

"Just saying hello, checking how you two are doing."

"So you're either following us or lying, 'cause there's no way you saw us from the road among all those other people."

"Emmy, come on." The boy raised a warning eyebrow and put a soothing hand on his sister's arm, drawing Greg's eyes to the bandages.

"What happened there?" the man asked and reached out, hand hovering a few centimetres away, careful not to touch without permission. When Emma didn't pull away, he took the girl's arm, causing her to hiss and twitch.

"Just a little scratch." she shrugged, but didn't meet the man's eyes, leaning against her brother and staring at the ground instead.

The fact that her whole lower arm was swollen, the bandages bloody and what was visible of the wound definitely infected spoke against 'just a scratch' and Greg's mind was made up instantly – especially considering the several other cuts and bruises he spotted on her.

"Let's go." the DI said and the siblings tensed, narrowing their eyes in suspicion. "For some tea. And to clean up your 'scratch'." he clarified, nodding towards the car.

The two teens stretched to look at the cruiser and a confused Sergeant Donovan.

"She's okay." the silver-haired man assured and turned, hoping the twins would follow. Sure, he could have taken them in for being out and about after midnight or the underage drinking, but that was bound to destroy what little trust he'd managed to gain from the reserved kids. So there was no way in hell that was going to happen, screw protocols and his guilty conscience.

"You're paying, right?" Elijah asked, one twin appearing on each side of the man, peering up at him with excited expressions at the prospect of a free, hot beverage.

"Of course, lad." Greg smiled, trying not to sound too excited, and opened the car door for the twins before sliding back into the driver's seat.

"Eh, sir?" Sally questioned and turned, watching the two teens in the back, who huddled close together and looked at her warily.

"I'll drop you off at the station." the DI said and raised an eyebrow in a_ 'do-not-question-me-right-now'_-way.

Sally grunted disapprovingly and crossed her arms over her chest with a scowl plastered on her face, but thankfully dropped the subject and fixed her eyes on the twins again.

Emma narrowed her own eyes at the woman and Elijah put a pre-emptive hand on the back of her neck as a warning not to start a fight in a police car. With a police officer.

"So, who are you, then?" the Sergeant asked in the typical, gentle way they were all taught to use when dealing with kids.

"Your too good for your boyfriend. Dump him." was Emma's answer. Sally's jaw dropped and Greg almost ran a red light.

"Seriously?" Donovan sighed, sounding impatient and irritated as she glowered at her boss. "What's it about you that's drawing in the weird ones?"

"Sally!" the DI said through gritted teeth, uncharacteristically angry about the relatively harmless comment.

"She means well." Elijah quickly threw in and smiled at the woman while his sister muttered something under her breath and buried her face in the boy's shoulder. "And she doesn't get how social interaction works, 'cause she's an idiot and refuses to learn the rules." he added, tutting at his twin's grumbled "Screw you."

Sally sighed, leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. They drove the rest of the way to NSY in relatively tense silence.

* * *

Elijah hummed happily, greedily slurping the coffee Greg had bought him after a short fight about the fact that the boy was too young to drink coffee. A very short fight the DI had, of course, lost.

"Can't you drink like a normal person?" Emma snapped and glared at her twin. "The sounds you're making are disgusting, you slob!"

The boy, in turn, simply took another loud sip and raised a challenging eyebrow while picking at his food - fish and chips, because that's all you get at nearly two o'clock in the morning. Not that either of the siblings minded, don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

"Be nice." Greg said absently as he cleaned the cut on the girl's arm, tongue peeking out in concentration. The sensible thing would have been to take her to a hospital, but that particular idea had not gone down well with either twin. So, instead of doing that established sensible thing, the man was sitting in one of the few restaurant open 24/7 with the emergency med kit from the cruiser, trying to fix up the girl and silently thanking Sherlock for being an incorrigible arse who ran headlong into danger _all the time_, giving Greg ample opportunities to practice his nurse skills.

Emma was about to bark something back at her brother, but scrunched up her face in pain when the applied disinfectant burned. Her eyes went wide, giving her a certain kicked puppy look, and she frowned at Greg, the expression clearly saying_ 'You lied about the pain, you wanker!'_.

The man, without hesitating for even a moment, reached out and ran a hand over her head and gently squeezed her shoulder before going back to his task, turning the girl's arm a bit into the light. It took almost a minute for him to realise what he'd done. He slowly lifted his head, expecting something not good, but Emma just _looked_ at him, head tilted, and seemed a little overwhelmed by the whole thing.

Elijah just grinned into his cup, clearly amused by the situation unfolding in front of him.

"Right, I...erm, sorry." Greg spluttered, but the girl shrugged and then quickly stuffed a chip into her mouth in an attempt to hide the small smile tugging at her lips.

"Let me translate that for you." the boy piped up helpfully, smirking and ignoring the downright murderous stare directed at him by his sister. "_'Thank you, Greg, for helping me and being nice. I appreciate it very much, but I'm too much of a tit to actually say it.'_"

Greg's lips twitched and he managed to catch the ketchup bottle before it was flung across the table. Emma crossed her free arm over her chest and began to pout - a pout that intensified after Greg affectionately ruffled her hair and would've made Sherlock himself proud.

Sergio, the elderly owner of the restaurant, was the one who saved the rest of the customers from a full-fledged fight between the siblings. "Can I get you anything else, Inspector?" the man smiled, knowing Greg from long nights spent bent over case files in the relatively quiet booth at the back of the restaurant.

The DI made a negating sound as he applied strips to hold the cut together. It said a lot about the owner and their relationship that he didn't bat an eye at the unusual sight.

"What about you, love?" Sergio asked and turned to Emma, who sat in her seat looking like the perfect picture of misery. "How about some tiramisu and a nice cup of hot chocolate, eh? On the house, for you and your brother." he said cheerfully and walked away before either twin had the chance to say something.

"That isn't even on the menu." Elijah pointed out, confused.

Neither of the two teens complained, however, when they were presented with not only the promised dessert, but also a variety of other cakes and other sweets.

Sergio, a father and multiple grandfather himself, merely winked at the other man when the twins weren't looking and mouthed _'Absolutely precious!'_

He had earned himself a handsome tip, Greg decided.

* * *

Emma was sleeping, slumped against Greg side with her head tucked under his shoulder, cradling her injured arm close to her belly. Elijah was lying on the opposite bench, head resting on the man's folded jacket and one leg dangling off the side of the furniture. The boy didn't even stir when Mycroft slid into the booth next to him and carefully lifted up his legs and, after a moment of consideration, draped them over his own lap for a lack of any other free spot.

Sergio quickly placed a cup of steaming tea in front of the politician, who graced him with a small smile and polite nod before turning to his husband.

"What are you doing here, Gregory?"

"Working?" the DI offered with a sheepish smile, gesturing at the reports scattered around the small table.

Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. "It's nearly three o'clock in the morning."

"Yeah, well, you're still working, so..." the older man trailed off, nodding at the redhead's suit. "We both work crazy hours, nothing new there."

"Greg." Mycroft sighed and put a hand on his husband's, stilling the movement of the pen scratching over the paper.

Greg groaned and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. "I know." he said, quietly, before meeting the other man's gaze and squeezing his hand. "Sally and I ran into them, I didn't plan it or anything. Then we went for some coffee and that turned into a meal and then into...well, _this_. They didn't want to go home, heat's out apparently, so we stayed."

Emma stirred, murmuring something incomprehensible, and nuzzled against the DI's chest, hand coming up to curl into his shirt, holding on as if she was afraid he'd leave otherwise.

"Let's take them home." Mycroft said gently and slid out of the booth.

Elijah complained sleepily and peeled open his eyes, staring at the politician for a few seconds before smiling at him. "Hi."

"Hello." Mycroft smiled back and damn it, it was impossible to say no to those two, wasn't it? His kind, good-hearted husband had never stood a bloody chance. The redhead cleared his throat and shook himself. "I have a car outside to take you home."

The boy got up, yawning and stretching, and snorted when he spotted the posh, black car waiting for them. "Yeah, sorry, but I wouldn't drive that into our neighbourhood if you wanna keep your rims and tires."

The politician cursed silently, because that actually was a rather good point.

"Anyway, 's nice here." Elijah shrugged and popped some left over cake into his mouth. "I think we'll stay a bit."

"You should be at home, sleeping." Mycroft pointed out, merely causing the boy to roll his eyes.

"I was sleeping, you woke me up." he grinned cheekily. "Besides, too cold to sleep at home. No heating."

Greg, biting his lower lip, blinked up at his husband, looking perfectly innocent for all the world - except Mycroft, who knew him too well.

"Your father isn't home?" Mycroft asked and Elijah narrowed his eyes at him, which was answer enough. "Well, it would be terribly irresponsible of us to leave you home alone in such a shabby neighbourhood at this time of night, wouldn't it?"

Elijah, confused, looked at Greg, who nodded and smiled encouragingly. "Guest room is waiting."

"You guys are amazing." the teen beamed, but faltered when he remembered his sister. But then again, a sleepy Emma was a very compliant Emma, so maybe he was in luck. And she liked Greg, had let him touch her, for fuck's sake, so what could another little sleepover hurt?

"Great, so that's settled." the DI smiled happily and got up, or at least tried to, the only half conscious teen clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

Elijah laughed and stretched over the table, poking her stomach. "Emmy, get up, we're going to Greg's."

"Gnhaa." Emma huffed and turned, pressing her face into the cushioned backrest behind her, uninjured arm still draped over Greg's legs. Her twin, with an annoyed eye roll, got up and started pulling at her until she was sitting more or less upright, swaying dangerously and leaning heavily against her brother.

"She is not a morning person and a mean drunk." the boy explained with a shrug.

"'s not morning. Tosser." Emma yawned and closed her eyes again.

What followed was one of the weirdest fights either of the two men had ever witnessed, with Elijah complaining and using every method known to man - including sprinkling her face with the rest of his soda - to wake his sister up and Emma refusing to even open her eyes, stubbornly insisting that now was not the time to move about, because it was _'the middle of the fucking night, thank you very much, you stupid idiot!'_.

Mycroft watched, eyebrows raised and unsure what to do until Greg, with a very amused grin, pulled the two apart and simply lifted the girl up into his arms. And Emma, seemingly very content with not having to walk anywhere, closed her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist and settled her chin on his shoulder, fully asleep again before they even stepped outside.

The DI, feeling guilty as he did so, thanked the heaven's that the girl was nowhere near the weight she was supposed to be, which was terrible for her health, but a very good thing for Greg's already complaining back.

By the time they reached the flat, each man had a teenager sleeping against them - or in Greg's case almost on top of him. And by the time the twins were settled in the spare room, Mycroft wondered exactly how his life had become something where he half-carried tired teens around in the wee hours of the morning and why he didn't even mind as much as he probably should.

"My back is killing me." Greg groaned when he finally fell into bed next to his brooding husband, but the content look on his face was a clear indication that the reason for the pain had definitely been worth it.

"We should inform social services." Mycroft blurted out because, really, they should. The other man sighed and curled around him, head coming to rest on the politician's shoulder.

"I did."

Mycroft almost choked on his own breath, causing Greg to chuckle, before he managed to gather himself. "What did they say?"

"Elijah and Emma, for all intent and purpose, do not exist."

"But we have their files, surely the responsible authorities-"

"They're gone." Greg interrupted and placed a kiss on the underside of the younger man's jaw. "Couldn't find them either, all I got left are the hard copies. Would you have a look and-"

Mycroft quirked an eyebrow as if to say _'Do you really think I could resist?'_ and the silver-haired man smiled, kissed him on the lips this time and settled down, comfortably cuddled up against the redhead.

"I intend to solve this, Myc." Greg yawned. "After catching up on some sleep."

The younger man snorted, amused, before closing his arms around Greg and nuzzling his nose against the man's temple. "Lazy."

"Not everyone is some sort of nocturnal, supernatural mind reader like you and your ruddy brother."

"Vampires are not technically mind readers, they-"

Greg groaned again and swatted a hand at his husbands face. "Shut up, Dracula."

* * *

"How does your relationship work?" Emma mused over breakfast the next morning as she watched Greg steal a piece of fruit from Mycroft's plate and refuse to give it back for anything less than a kiss.

Greg pulled back from his successfully acquired kiss and frowned. "Huh?"

"I mean," the girl began, stirring her tea and looking way too reflective and thoughtful for her age, "society's pretty shit, despite all the progress and that, openly non-straight cops in a position such as yours just aren't a thing. And you." she continued and narrowed her eyes at Mycroft, reading him, the redhead realised, "Politician, something international going by the fact that I've heard you speak at least four different languages so far, somewhere rather high up since you're bloody rich and wear suits even in the middle of the night. You don't appear closeted, so what? Use your positions to get everyone who's being a dick fired or arrested?"

"Or deported." Mycroft muttered and Emma, after taking a moment to consider if he was joking or not, shrugged, grinned and went back to her toast and eggs.

"Fair enough."

"That's it?" Greg asked, surprised, because he'd thought it to be more of an issue if the girl had actually been spending time thinking about it.

Emma just shrugged again and rested her head on her brother's shoulder, what seemed to be some sort of sign for him to take over.

_'Twins, seriously.'_, Greg grinned to himself.

"It's just not a big deal, I guess." Elijah said dismissively. "You two fit, that's nice. And it works. What more is there to discuss?"

"Very poetic, brother." the girl laughed, teasingly.

Elijah flicked her ear and earned himself a pinch to the upper arm for it.

And Greg and Mycroft used the distraction to share some more quick kisses until a collective _"Aww!"_ from the smirking siblings made them jump apart and blush.


End file.
